Cage of Twigs : Part One
by Ratsregit
Summary: The diary of a 19yearold girl, who becomes a ghoul shortly after running off to Los Angeles for art school. Note: No action happens till Part 3


**Cage of Twigs **

**(For a Faded Song Bird)**

**A Vampire: The Masquerade Bloodlines Fan Fiction**

**Part One**

_The following scripts contained throughout this story are from the journals of Robin S. Block, a 19-year-old from the city of Sacramento, California . Ms. Block 's entries before the summer of 1995 are irrelevant at the time. Ms. Block had taken a year off after high school to get her bearings in order before setting off for an art institute in the Los Angeles region._

**7/5/95**

Only a few more days till I hit the road! Finally, out of this sleepy little hole in the ground and into ShangriL.A.! I found a one-bedroom in this fairly decent-looking apartment complex. Hey, at least it's on the 3rd floor. I really should keep packing. My books are scattered all over the place.

**7/7/95**

I'm amazed I've made it this far with a head like mine. Weird, it's like, sometimes I can be a genius, but at other times I'm a total ditz, you know? Well, whatever. I leave on the 10th. Hard to believe, isn't it? Mom and Kitty have no idea. I feel bad, but not too bad. Our family's so fucked up, me leaving probably won't hurt. Actually, things might get better. Maybe Mom and Kitty will actually get closer (yeah, and Kitty will quit the acid)? When the eldest daughter runs away (that really is what I'm doing, might as well not lie about it to myself), usually that somehow helps the remaining family (at least in the movies). I won't miss Mom, and I certainly won't miss Steve. I know it's been a few years since he's hit me or Kitty, but still, he hasn't changed at all. I wish I could take Kitty with me. I hope she doesn't hate me for leaving. I'm going to leave her a note when I leave (real classy, huh?). I just can't stand it here anymore! I mean, geez it's either Steve passed out on our couch with like, 6 bottles of Coors on the floor, or it's Kitty screaming at Mom stuff like "Why won't you just acknowledge that ever since you started going out with that pig, he's been smacking your kids around, passed out in the bathroom, having his other drunk, perverted friends over, or spending what little money we have on beer and shit!" and Mom crying softly with her head in her hands, sobbing things like "He's better than your father, he's better than your father…" over and over. The funny thing is, he's not better than Dad. I mean yeah, Dad ran out on us when Kitty was just 6 and I was 9 with his 24-year-old girlfriend, but at least he didn't keep hurting us. Sometimes Kitty would come into my room after yelling at Mom and would get on my case. "You know what he does, why don't you tell Mom, she might listen to you!" There's no point in telling her. Ever since Dad split…no, wait, it was before then. Dad didn't just up and leave us. They were always arguing about stupid stuff. She was always paranoid. Started out "I saw you looking at that sales girl's ass!" ,then gravitated to "John, I know you're seeing that girl at your work, I just know it…". She drove him to cheat. He just couldn't take the madness in this house anymore. Wow, I'm babbling too much. Then again, that is what a diary is for, right? Getting things off your chest you can't keep bottled up anymore. Man, I just wish Kitty could come with me. Maybe when she graduates, she could move in with me. She would probably want to. Mom is lost. There's no point trying to help her. If she lets other people rule her, than maybe she deserves to be ruled over. Do I sound like such a horrible daughter? Maybe I am.

**7/10/95**

So of course today is the day Kitty makes me feel all guilty. This isn't the first time I've sworn that she's a psychic. I'm in the kitchen flipping over pancakes and Kitty comes out of her room, in that stupid over-sized shirt of Tony's (he would make a horrible father, I hope they're using protection), with her hair sticking up all over the place. She plops down at the table, rubbing her eyes and yawning. Then it's "Hey, Rob?" I "mmmhmmm", not really paying attention to anything other than the bubbling little puddle of cream-colored dough in the frying pan when "You love me, right?" I put down the spatula and come over to the table. "What? Of course I do. Why would you ask that?" Kitty nods, making more little waking-up-noises. "Nothing, I just…had a weird dream." I'm pretty sure this is what she said next (I've never been good at remembering what people say) "You were like, I don't know (she kinda scoffs) eloping with Josh Nichols, (we both burst into laughter) and you didn't tell me. See, I found out from this panda I met at the mall (more giggles) and he told me you had left without saying anything because you didn't care." It was a bit awkward. I went over to her side and hugged her for a few seconds, I guess it was a bit long, because she kinda stiffened and was like "What? You aren't really eloping, are you?" We cracked up again. It felt like a goodbye. "Hey," Kitty made to inhale after our little hysterical fit and asks "God, what's that smell?" I sniffed the air and rush over to the stove. Those little cream-colored blobs were now hard as rocks and pitch black. We drove to McDonald's.


End file.
